Chryed Home
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: Is where the heart is


**_Happy 2nd Anniversary WFCTGIO xxx :) Sorry this is a bit sad :(_**

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><p>"What on earth?"<p>

Syed looked up guiltily from the floor, poised with his hips in mid air. Lowering himself slowly back down, he muttered;

"Pilates.."

"Really? Do you want me to come and help you with that? Might be better with fewer clothes.."

Christian flipped the top from the carton of orange juice in his hand, and lifted it to his lips, swigging it down in large gulps.

Mesmerised by the curve of his throat, Syed propped himself up onto his elbows, and smiled.

"I went through that stuff from the Estate Agents.."

Rinsing out the empty carton under the tap, and squashing it down between his hands, Christian paused before he responded.

"Good.. You haven't just selected all the luxury loft style apartments, have you? I mean, I'm happy to meet you in the middle, but we've got to be practical.."

"Ha! Who is this intruder in my home? Practical? Give me back my Christian, you impostor!.."

Syed deftly caught the carton before it hit him on the head, and stood up, shoving it in the recycling bin. He lifted up a pile of papers from the table.

"…And no, I didn't. Though you should have seen the flat I lived in, before I moved back with my parents. Panoramic river views, beech flooring throughout, with under floor heating, whirlpool bath.."

"I tell you what, if our new home's got a bath, I'll fart in it for you.."

Sorting through the Estate Agents details that Syed had handed over to him, Christian noted, ruefully, that only two of them had a red tick on the top, Syed's way of marking his approval.

"..Is this it? Only these two?"

Syed leant against him, and pointed to a picture of a Victorian semi detached house.

"I thought you'd like this one. It's the other side of the High Street, near the park, two beds, small garden.."

"Oh, It looks lovely!"

Syed glanced up, smiling at the way Christian's eyes had begun to gleam, sensing the enthusiasm building inside him.

"Needs a lot of work, that's what 'potential scope for improvement' means, that it's falling down."

Christian put his arm around him, and hugged him tight.

"We can do work! Well, I can, you can pass me drill bits and look pretty.. You know what a dab hand I am with a paint brush.."

"Hmm, Lucy's better.. You want to have a look at it then?"

"Definitely! If you're sure?" Christian hesitated, trying to calm his excitement, hoping he wouldn't be disappointed by Syed's response, guarding himself against the pain of the expected objections; 'It's too big, too small, in the wrong road' and the unspoken one; 'it's too far away from my parents.' He felt his heart swell with joy as Syed took the details from him, and answered.

"Yeah, why not. It might be a dump though, so don't get too excited." He realised the last part of his statement was a bit redundant when Christian started to press kisses on his face, laughing as he did so.

"Oof! Calm down! I said I'd pick up the keys at lunch time, so meet me there at two.. Christian, get your hands off, we can't, we've got clients… oh, what the hell.."

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><p>Syed eyed the dilapidated little house with suspicion. The red paint on it's front door crazed and peeling, and one of the pane's on the sash windows was scored by a jagged crack. In it's small front garden, enclosed by rusty iron railings, blue flowered Borage and long grass twined around, and through, a broken washing machine. He looked at his watch impatiently, staring up the road for a glimpse of Christian, folding his arms crossly when he suddenly appeared, tearing down the street, his face suffused with contrition.<p>

"I'm so sorry Sy!" He panted, "I met Rox for lunch, and I couldn't get rid of her, moaning on about her weirdy boyfriend… Oh look! It's so sweet!"

Syed realised that Christian obviously had on a pair of rose tinted glasses, and raised his eyebrows.

"That's not the word I would have used. Here.." He let Christian grab the keys from his pocket, and pushed open the gate. With a loud squeak, it promptly fell off his hinges.

"That's a good sign.." They both surveyed it, lying drunkenly against the washing machine, and laughed.

Christian stuck his head around the door, taking in the long tiled hall, uncarpeted stairs leading upstairs, on the landing, a high thin window, letting in a pool of bright sunshine, diffused by the dust. He took Syed's hand, and pulled him inside, leading him into a small living room, the original fireplace, black and dull with age, ragged curtains hanging tipsily from a broken brass pole. The sound of a pigeon, roosting on the chimney stack, filled the room with an eerie calm.

"I love it!" Christian breathed.

Syed had known he would, knew he would be able to see the potential beneath the dilapidation, have the enthusiasm and tenacity to turn it into a beautiful home. Christian had bounded into the galley kitchen, and was giving him a running commentary on how they could knock things through, put up an arch, waffling on about reinforced steel joints, colour swatches, appliances, cots, and Syed wished he could muster more interest, stop feeling like a cautious wet blanket, gripping fervently onto the string of Christian's balloon of excitement, to stop it floating away.

Christian reappeared from the garden, face wreathed in smiles.

"We've got a shed! Well the remnants of a shed.. And there's an old swing, and an oak tree, to put a tree house in. Imagine!"

"I'm trying."

Syed wanted to kick himself, seeing Christian's expression change to one of deflation.

" Oh. You hate it."

"No! No, I don't, I just can't quite envisage it in the same way as you. It seems such a lot to do, when we're both so busy, will be busier, with a child."

"But we could have the work done by the time we get to adopt. I'll put in the hours, It'll be fabulous!"

"It will, if anyone can make it better, then it's you."

"Only with your help."

They stood side by side at the window, watching the old metal swing creak gently in the breeze.

Syed slipped his hand into Christian's.

"Let's sleep on it, come back tomorrow, see if we still feel the same."

Christian watched him leave the room, walking through the rays of light, dust motes dancing around his hair, and felt tears prick behind his eyes. He said quietly into the musty air.

"We will always feel the same."


End file.
